The Choice
by NeighNeigh
Summary: Based on the books, but i'll try to add bits from the movie for a wider audience. I have basically took bits from the books but made them so my own character could fit into it. Possible StevexOc
1. The Note

**I N T R O D U C T I O N**

-Darren's P.O.V-

I'VE ALWAYS been fascinated by spiders. I used to collect them when I was younger. I'd spend hours rooting through the dusty old shed at the bottom of our garden, hunting the cobwebs for lurking eight-legged predators. When I found one, I'd bring it in and let it loose in my bedroom.

It used to drive my mum mad!

Usually, the spider would slip away after a day or two, never to be seen again, but sometimes they hung around longer. I had one who made a cobweb above my bed and stood sentry for almost a month. Going to sleep, I used to imagine the spider creeping down, crawling into my mouth, sliding down my throat and laying loads of eggs in my belly. The baby spiders would hatch after a while and eat me alive, from the inside out.

I loved being scared when I was little.

When I was nine, my mum and dad gave me a small tarantula. It wasn't poisonous or very big, but it was the greatest gift I'd ever received. I played with that spider almost every waking hour of the day. Gave it all sorts of treats: flies and cockroaches and tiny worms. Spoilt it rotten.

Then, one day, I did something stupid. I'd been watching a cartoon in which one of the characters was sucked up by a vacuum cleaner. No harm came to him. He squeezed out of the bag, dusty and dirty and mad as hell. It was very funny.

So funny, I tried it myself. With the tarantula.

Needless to say, things didn't happen quite like they did in the cartoon. The spider was ripped to pieces. I cried a lot, but it was too late for tears. My pet was dead, it was my fault , and there was nothing I could do about it.

My parents nearly hollered the roof down when they found out what I'd done – the tarantula had cost quite a bit of money. They said I was an irresponsible fool, and from that day on they never again let me have a pet, not even an ordinary garden spider.

The thing about real life is, when you do something stupid, it normally costs you . In books, the heroes can make as many mistakes as they like. It doesn't matter what they do, because everything comes good in the end. They'll beat the bad guys and put things right and everything ends up hunky-dory.

In real life, vacuum cleaners kill spiders. If you cross a busy road without looking, you get whacked by a car. If you fall out of a tree, you break some bones.

Real life's nasty. It's cruel. It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be. In real life, bad things happen. People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins.

I just wanted to make that clear before I began.

Anyway, that's enough of an introduction. If you're ready, let's begin.

* * *

><p><strong>C H A P T E R 1<strong>

-My P.O.V-

ENGLISH CLASS was almost ever, until Darren had put his hand up, claiming to be ill. Our teacher Mr Dalton nodded his head and told him to 'make for the toilet'.

"Throw up whatever's bugging you, Darren," he said, "then get your behind back in here."

Darren stood up and 'made for the toilet'. I looked over to Steve, who was sitting on the table in front of me. We had been exchanging notes since we found out that we were going to be studying Shakespeare... AGAIN!

He sneakily slid a note to me over the table, disguising it as some sort of dramatised yawn. It read:

_You watching the footie later?_

I looked at him, nodded and passed the paper back to him. He scribbled something down and was about to pass it to me when Mr Dalton walked up behind him. Steve sighed and bowed his head at the shame of getting caught before handing over the note at his teachers request. Mr Dalton opened the note and quickly scanned it, he let out a small smile when he had finished and then put it into the top drawer of his desk. He whispered something to Steve before turning to me and winking.

After that Mr Dalton returned to the lesson as if nothing had happened apart, but every time he saw us that same smile would reappear on his face.

I tore a page out of my book, scrunched it up and threw it at Steve's head. When it hit he immediately span around in his chair and glared at me, I let out a small laugh into the palm of my hand. He could be such a drama queen.

I leant forwards, hid my mouth with my right hand and mouthed,

"What was that about?" His glare eased, as he shrugged.

"What did the note say?" I mouthed, still hiding my mouth so that Mr Dalton couldn't see what I was saying. He whispered back that he would tell me after his football match, I nodded in agreement and we both pay attention to the lesson again before we got into too much trouble, not that Steve would, given that he's Mr Dalton's golden boy, so to speak. I mean, I couldn't say half of the things he had said in his essays without getting suspended or even expelled!

After that the time flew by, it felt like only a matter of minutes before the school bell hand rang for the lunch break. Everyone suddenly broke into a mad frenzy to get out of the class room and into the fresh air, or at least outside. At the pitch the game started pretty slow, and by the time everyone wanted a break Steve's team was losing 5-1. I looked around to find my best friends, Steve and Darren, I saw Steve straight away. He had his hands on his head during the half-time when he came over.

I grabbed his arm and pulled for him to sit next to me, He was pulling a sad face, with his bottom lip sticking out.

"I'm not playing!" I joked and I nudged him gently, He smiled and then sighed,

"Awe Come on!" He moaned,

"No! Go and fetch Darren!" I laughed at him as I ruffled his hair. He sighed again and ran off to get him. It was only a few minutes until Darren returned, as cocky as ever,

"Never fear, Hotshot Shan is here!" He shouted as he made an extended entrance onto the football pitch. Most of the players were either laughing at his remark or groaning at it, but his team mates were beginning to look much more motived than before and his opponents were growing worried. Within the first minute he had already scored 2 goal, each one causing a lot of speculation and cheering on his part. At one point I thought they may have even won or at least tied with the other team, but, alas, the fates were not that kind, Darren's team had lost 9-7 when the bell had finally decided to ring.

I ran to catch up with Steve to see what the note had been about, it was probably just some joke he had heard, that could've been why Mr Dalton smiled! Just one of Steve's not-so-good jokes, not that he doesn't have good ones because he does. Steve tends to have his funny moments and his not-so-funny moments.

Anyway when I had got to him he was already with Alan, Tommy and Darren. A red-faced Alan had began yelling, about some piece of paper that he had in his hand when he was interrupted by Mr Dalton,

"You five! Inside!" He roared.

"We're coming, Mr Dalton!" The golden boy roared back. Steve should consider himself lucky that Mr Dalton has a soft for him, He had that soft spot because Steve was special. Sometimes he's brilliant in class and gets everything right, while other times he can't even spell his own name. Mr Dalton says Steve's a bit of an _idiot savant_, which means he's a stupid genius! But even although Steve was Mr Dalton's golden boy, not even he can get away with turning up late for class. So whatever Alan had, it would have to wait. The boys trudged over to class, tired from the game, while I just walked slowly to stay with them and we began our next lesson.

Little did Me, Steve and Darren know that Alan's mysterious piece of paper was to change our lives forever. Whether it was for better or for worse is up to you!


	2. Cirque Du What!

C H A P T E R T W O

WE HAD Mr Dalton again after lunch, for history. We were studying World War II. Darren wasn't too keen on it, but Steve thought it was great. He loved anything to do with killing and war. He often said he wanted to be a mercenary soldier – one who fights for money – when he grew up. And he meant it!

We had maths after history, and – incredibly – Mr Dalton for a third time! Our usual maths teacher was off sick, so others had been filling in for him as best they could all day.

Steve was in seventh heaven. His favourite teacher, three classes in a row! It was the first time we'd had Mr Dalton for maths, so Steve started showing off, telling him where we were in the book, explaining some of the trickier problems as though speaking to a child. Mr Dalton didn't mind. He was used to Steve and knew exactly how to handle him.

Normally Mr Dalton runs a tight ship – his classes are fun but we always come out of the them having learned something – but he wasn't very good at maths. He tried hard but we could tell he was in over his head, and while he was busy trying to come to grips with things – his head buried in the maths book, Steve by his side making "helpful" suggestions – the rest of us began to fidget and talk softly to each other and pass notes around.

Notes were being passed back and forth between Darren and Alan – probably about the piece of paper he was holding earlier. At first he was reluctant to pass it around, but after a few more notes from Darren, he gave in. Tommy was sitting the closest at the time, so he got it first. He opened it up and began studying it. His face lit up while he was reading and his jaw slowly dropped. When he passed it on to me – having read it three times – I soon saw why.

It was a flyer, an advertising pamphlet for some sort of travelling circus. There was a pictures of a wolf's head at the top. The wolf had its mouth open and saliva was dripping from its teeth. At the bottom were pictures of a spider and a snake, and they looked vicious too.

Just beneath the wolf, in big red capital letters, were the words:

**C I R Q U E D U F R E A K **

Underneath that, in smaller writing:

**FOR ONE WEEK ONLY – CIRQUE DU FREAK!**

**SEE:**

**SIVE AND SEERSA – THE TWISTING TWINS!**

**THE SNAKE-BOY! THE WOLF MAN! GERTHA TEETH!**

**LARTEN CREPSLEY AND HIS PREFORMING SPIDER – MADAM OCTA!**

**ALEXANDER RIBS! THE BEARDED LADY! HANS HANDS!**

**RHAMUS TWOBELLIES – WORLD'S FATTEST MAN!**

Beneath all that was an address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom, just above the pictures of the snake and spider:

**NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED!**

**CERTAIN RESERVATIONS APPLY!**

'Cirque Du Freak?' I thought to myself. Cirque was French for circus... Circus of Freaks! Was this a _freak show?_ It looked like it.

I finished gawking at the flyer and passed it onto Darren – who was now fully immersed in the advertisement. After a few moments the room was silent, I looked up and there was Mr Dalton – as red-faced as ever – standing behind Darren and he appeared to be reading the flyer as his lips tightened. I turned around to see what Steve had been doing, only to find him sticking his tongue out and taunting Darren over his current predicament.

"What is this?" he snapped, snatching the paper from Darren's hands.

"Where'd you get it?" he asked. He looked really angry. I'd never seen him this worked up. "Where'd you get it?" he asked again.

Darren licked his lips nervously, it's not like Alan would just own up to it, after all he isn't the bravest person ever. Luckily, Steve stepped in.

"Sir, it's mine" he said.

"Yours?" Mr Dalton blinked slowly.

"I found it near the bus stop, sir," Steve said. "Some old guy threw it away. I thought it look interesting, so I picked it up. I was going to ask you about it later, at the end of class."

"Oh." Mr Dalton tried not to look flattered but we could all tell he was. "That's different. Nothing wrong with an inquisitive mind. Sit down, Steve" that's golden boy off the hook again, he sat down and Mr Dalton stuck a bit of Blu-Tack onto the flyer and attached it to the black board.

"Long ago," he said, tapping the flyer, "there used to be real freak shows. Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages and–"

"Sir, what's _malformed_ mean?" somebody asked.

"Someone who doesn't look ordinary," Mr Dalton said. "A person with three arms or two noses; somebody with no legs; somebody very short or very tall. The con men put these poor people – who were no different to you or me, except in looks – on display and called them freaks. They charged the public to stare at them, and invited them to laugh and tease. They treated the so-called "freaks" like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dressed them in rags, never allowed them to wash."

"That's cruel, sir," Deliana Price – a girl near the front – said.

"Yes." he agreed. "Freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got angry when I saw this." He tore down the flyer. "They were banned years ago, but every so often you'll hear a rumour that they're still going strong."

"Do you think the Cirque Du Freak is a real freak show?" Darren asked.

Mr Dalton studied the flyer again, then shook his head. "I doubt it," he said, "Probably just a cruel hoax. Still," he added, "if it _was_ real, I hope nobody here would dream of going."

"Oh, no, sir," we all said quickly.

"Because freak shows were terrible," he said. "They pretended to be like proper circuses but they were cesspits of evil. Anybody who went to one would be just as bad as the people running it."

"You'd have to be really twisted to want to go to one of those, sir," Steve agreed. And then looked at me and Darren – who was sitting next to me -, winked, and mouthed the words: "We're going!"


	3. Only 2!

C H A P T E R T H R E E

STEVE PERSUADED Mr Dalton to let him keep the flyer. He said he wanted it for his bedroom wall. Mr Dalton wasn't going to give it to him but then changed his mind. He cut off the address at the bottom before handing it over.

After school, the five of us – Me, Steve Leonard, Alan Morris, Tommy Jones and Darren Shan – gathered in the yard and studied the glossy flyer.

"It's got to be a fake," Darren said.

"Why?" Alan asked.

"They don't allow freak shows any more," Darren told him. "Wolf-men and Snake-boys were outlawed years ago. Mr Dalton said so."

"It's not a fake!" Alan insisted.

"Where'd you get it?" Tommy asked.

"I stole it," Alan said softly. "It belongs to my big brother." Alan's big brother was Tony Morris, who used to be the school's biggest bully until he got thrown out. He's huge and mean and ugly.

"You _stole_ from _Tony_?" Darren gasped. "Have you got a death wish?"

"He won't know it was me," Alan said. "He had it in a pair of trousers that Mum threw in the washing machine. I stuck a blank piece of paper in when I took this out. He'll think the ink got washed off."

"Smart," Steve nodded.

"Where did Tony get it?" Darren asked.

"There was a guy passing them out in an alley," Alan said. "One of the circus performers, a Mr Crepsley."

"The one with the spider?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah," Alan answered, "only he didn't have the spider with him. It was night and Tony was on his way back from the pub." Tony's not old enough to get served in a pub, but hangs around with older guys who buy drinks for him. "Mr Crepsley handed the paper to Tony and told him they're a travelling freak show who put on secret performances in towns and cities across the world. He said you had to have a flyer to buy tickets and they only give them to people they trust. You're not supposed to tell anyone else about the show. I only found out because Tony was in high spirits – the way he gets when he drinks – and couldn't keep his mouth shut."

"How much are the tickets?" Steve asked.

"Fifteen pounds each," Alan said.

"Fifteen pounds!" They all shouted, whilst I choked slightly on the can of coke I had been drinking during the discussion.

"Nobody's going to pay fifteen pounds to see a bunch of freaks!" Steve snorted.

"I would," Darren said.

"Me too," Tommy agreed.

"And me," Alan added, I gulped down my drink and added my agreement to the trio.

"Sure," Steve said, "but _we_ don't have fifteen pounds to throw away. So it's academic, isn't it?"

"What does _academic_ mean?" Alan asked.

"It means we can't afford the tickets, so it doesn't matter if we would buy them or not," Steve explained. "It's easy to say you _would_ buy something if you know you _can't_."

"How much _do_ we have?" Alan asked.

"Tuppence ha'penny," Darren laughed.

"I'd love to go," Tommy said sadly. "It sounds great." He studied the picture again.

"Mr Dalton didn't think too much of it," Alan said.

"That's what I mean," Tommy said. "If Sir doesn't like it, it must be super. Anything that adults hate it normally brilliant."

"Are we sure we don't have enough?" Darren asked. "Maybe they have discounts for children."

"I don't think children are allowed in," Alan said, but he told us how much he had anyway. "Five pounds seventy."

"I've got twelve pounds exactly," Steve said.

"I have six pounds eighty-five pence," Tommy said.

"And I have eight pounds twenty-five," Darren told us.

"Well, I've only got three pounds fifty-six," I said.

"That's more than thirty pounds in all," Darren informed us after he had added it up in his head. "We get our pocket money tomorrow. If we pool our–"

"But the tickets are nearly sold out," Alan interrupted. "The first show was yesterday. It finishes Tuesday. If we go, it'll have to be tomorrow night or Saturday, because our parents won't let us out any other night. The guy who gave Tony the flyer said the tickets for both nights were almost gone. We'd have to buy them tonight."

"Well, so much for that," I said, putting on a brave face.

"Maybe not," Steve said. "My Mum keeps a wad of money in a jar at home. I could borrow some and put it back when we get our pocket money."

"You mean steal?" Darren asked.

"I mean _borrow_," he snapped. "It's only stealing if you don't put it back. What do you say?"

"How would we get the tickets?" Tommy asked. "It's a school night. We wouldn't be let out."

"I can sneak out," Steve said. "I'll buy them."

"But Mr Dalton snipped off the address," Darren reminded us.

"How will you know where to go?" I added,

"I memorized it," Steve grinned, then winked at me. "Now, are we gonna stand here all night making excuses, or are we gonna go for it?"

We all looked at each other, then – one by one – nodded silently.

"Right," Steve said. "We hurry home, grab our money, and meet back her. Tell your parents you forgot a book or something. We'll lump the money together and I'll add the rest from the pot at home."

"What if you can't steal – I mean, borrow the money?" Darren asked.

He shrugged. "Then then deals off. But we won't know unless we try. Now: hurry!"

With that, Me and Steve sprinted away. It only made sense to run with him because we lived a few doors away from each other.

After I got my money I sat on my garden wall and waited outside for Steve, 'I wonder what that note was about?' I thought to myself, I had forgotten to ask him at lunch.

A few minutes later Steve was finally outside of his house, walking down the path and, now, on his way up to me. He stopped in front of me and pull something out of his pocket, it was the money!

"Guess what I've got." He said as he waved the money in my face before putting it back into his trouser pocket. I smiled at him, but it soon faded when I realised that I had heard the name Crepsley before, but where? I was thinking about it when Steve had said something.

"What?" I said, half-awake, half-in thought still.

"I said, What's wrong?" He did one of those cute, half-smiles that boys do. Wait did I just say that Steve was cute? Wow, I'm more tired than I thought. I giggled at my previous thought.

"Nothing!" I said during my little giggle.

"Really?" I said, still with a half smile.

"Yes, Really! Now let's go, We've still got to meet the others." I stood up, that's when I had actually noticed how close together we were, our lips were mere inches apart. I felt myself blush slightly, but I turned and started walking in the direction of the school before he noticed. We spent the entire walk back talking about the Cirque Du Freak and what type of freaks would be there. Steve had it stuck in his head that they would all be some sort of – and I quote – '_malformed freaks_'.

By the time we got to the schools grounds everyone was already there waiting. We all handed Steve the money, said our good-byes and left, but Steve grabbed my arm.

"Come with me?" He begged as he put on his best puppy dog eyes and pouty lips, I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"Okay, but only if you answer my question?" I bargained,

"Fine, what's the question?" He asked, his face went back to it's usual cocky half smile. I said that I would tell him when we were going to get the tickets. He nodded and we went our separate ways – well, not literally because we live on the same street and all but you know what I mean!

I snook out and met him at the school at 7, where we began walking to where they are selling the tickets, Steve led the way as I had absolutely no idea where we were going.

"What did the note say?" I asked as I put my hands into my pockets.

"Nothing!" He said quickly, mean-while his cheeks were turning a pinkish colour.

"Tell me!" I pleaded with him.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you Saturday no matter what!"

"Promise?" I asked.

"Cross my heart" He said as he drew a cross over his heart with his finger. I pushed him playfully, which ended up with him gently tackling me to the floor. He had me pinned onto the floor of the field we had been walking past, his hands holding down mine. Our faces were as they were earlier, mere inches away. We had been laughing the entire time, but when that had died down he looked straight into my eyes.

"You have blue eyes?" He questioned me, I giggled some more and nodded. He unpinned me and we spent the rest of the time we had left just talking and messing around.

When we got there, rather than a ticket booth, there was just a shed with a small guy being pulled out of it by two policemen and, I squinted my eyes so I could see more clearly – as we were in an alleyway – My eyes widened and my jaw dropped when I saw who it was. It was Mr Dalton!

"Oh sh-!" Steve murmured as he pulled me onto the wall which we had been standing next t- **BANG!** There was suddenly a huge bang and a cloud of smoke, and when that had disappeared the small guy was gone. Luckily after searching the shed and looking around a few times, Mr Dalton and the police went off looking in a different direction. When we turned around the small guy was standing right behind us. He really WAS small, he was also wearing a very long cloak that had covered him from head to toe. He took the flyer from Steve but only the money for two, when Steve had asked him why he merely pointed to the words "certain reservations" on the flyer, and then handed him a piece of paper which had said that Cirque Du Freak sell only two tickets per flyer. I had decided to offer him more money, but he wouldn't take it, and Steve had been harbouring almost seventy pounds all together, however he still wouldn't accept it.

We were about to go home when I noticed that the hooded guy was limping, so I decided to go over to help him. I took a look at his leg, which was only slightly cut from the policemen's ignorance to his safety will removing him from the shed. I opened the bag which I had been carrying on my back and got my first-aid kit out, I got out one of the larger, flexi-plasters and placed it carefully on the wound, and gently pressed down the edges so it wouldn't just come off when he was walking, I told him to be careful and to walk on it as little as possible.

Steve gave me a funny look, then stood up straight, brushed himself off and began walking off with me when I felt a sudden pull at my trouser leg, I looked down to see the small guy looking up at me, holding something up.

"For me?" I asked him, unsure of what I was supposed to do. He simply nodded, I took it off of him and looked at it, it was a ticket for the Cirque Du Freak show on Saturday. I felt my face light up, I hugged the small guy and thanked him, before waving at him and – finally, for the last time – setting off for home.

Steve gave me a confused look when I had shown him what the guy had given to me,

"It doesn't hurt to be nice, you know?" I said to him, smiling.

"No, but it's a bloody pain in the arse!" We both laughed at his latest sarcastic comment and went home.


End file.
